Looking for Light
by LilyMyDeer
Summary: Adalina Palmer never had a real family or friends. She never knew what it felt like to love. Adalina was unwanted, except for experiments and evaluation. After being unloved and broken for 18 years, she snaps and something happens that will change her entire future for the better… or for the worse? Adalina will face hardships but will find friends, family, and love along the way.
1. Miserable

**Adalina's POV**

I slowly blink my eyes open, feeling them weigh down, protesting. Darkness surrounds me. It traps me within my small room, if you could call it a room. Light streams through the crack under the door. It shows me the poor accommodations I have been forced to live in since I was a small child. A cot sits across the cramped space, about four feet from where I lay on the cold, hard, dusty floor. Several feet from the edge of the cot is a not too terribly big cardboard box that contains my small amount of clothes.

I have no personal possessions, my parents, though I hate to call them that, told me I wasn't good enough to own anything. They never cease to tell me that I am not worthy of anything but necessities, although by the way they act I doubt they even want me alive. The only reason they keep me is because of their precious experiments. Experiments for their projects are all they care about, that and the fame and money they hope gain from success.

I am a toy. I am a toy to them. I am a worthless toy that is used and broken for a child's entertainment. That is how they see me. I am of no use but one, a toy in a cruel and inhumane experiment. I have never known anything but hate and hurt. I want to know comfort. I want to know love and kindness. I want a family, a real family. I want a family that cares for me and includes me and loves me. That's all I want, just to have a family and know love. If there is one other thing I could ask for, it would be to get out of this place.

This is a place with no sentimental value. This house is cold and cruel and harsh. This house is not and never will be a home. Sure there are bedrooms and a kitchen, all the usual things in a house; it won't ever be a home. Not to me. Not to little used and broken me. Most people would love to have a house as big as this one, but I hate the size. With three stories, including a basement, the house is a pretty good size. The middle and top levels are normal looking enough and spacious, but the basement, I hate the basement.

The basement is off limits to everyone, apart from my parents and me. If one were to walk down the stairs, they'd find themselves face to face with a clean, white, lab. Although it seems clean, my memories and life in that...that...torture chamber are clear but awful. I can picture that room clearly in my mind. I see the spotless white walls and floors, the sleek, cold, metal counter tops and tables. I see the equipment that lays in neat stacks, columns and rows. I picture the bright white lights that blind me when I step foot in that room. I see needles. There are needles everywhere. Needles filled with liquids, needles that draw my blood, needles that draw things from containers, needles that poke and prod my skin, I can see them all. I can still feel the pain they cause me. The needles inject me with unknown things. They make my skin burn. The make my muscles hurt and ache. It is torture. I can see the torture, I can still feel it.

They show no emotion, my parents. They don't see me as their daughter. They don't care they are hurting me, both physically and emotionally. They don't. They drag me from my "room" and down into the basement, that horrendous basement. They strap me to one of those metal tables. They don't care the cold from the table bites my skin. They pay no mind to how hard they slam me on that table, no mind to how hard they drag me down those stairs.

They always, always, stab me with needles, always. No matter how hard I protest or how hard I try to resist, there are always needles. There is always pain. When I was younger my parents said it was to rid me of my "condition". I never believed it. I am very perceptive. I am good at telling when people lie. My parents lied. I have no condition. I am just a test subject for an experiment they make no progress at. Sometimes I wonder if they just harm me for fun; they seem like they would that's for sure. My parents are ruthless. Sometimes I wonder if they are capable of love, or even have the smallest bit of sentiment. I truly hate them.

Dr. Oliver Palmer and Dr. Jenna Palmer, also known as my parents, are well known scientists. They are smart, they truly are, but they are awful. I have heard "How do I love thee? Let me count thy ways," but in their case? "How do I hate thee? Let me count thy ways" is spot on for how I feel. I have never known love, and they have never offered it. I live with myself and my thoughts alone. However, one time I snuck a pen and notebook my parents had written in to read into my sleeve as they shoved me back to my room. They both went ballistic for days trying to find it, but they never could. I had it. They would never expect little ole' insignificant me to have something important.

I found some interesting things in that journal, some very interesting things. Now see, I may be very secluded but I am not clueless. My parents almost always have the news channel on the television while they experiment on me. I overheard something about Manhattan, somewhere not too far from where I live, getting attacked by some sort of alien army. I was in complete shock at first. Who would've thought aliens… really? I mean, this isn't "War of the Worlds" right? (Yes, I have stolen a few books without my parent's knowledge so I wouldn't die of boredom.) Anyways, the next thing I saw was something about super heroes that called themselves the Avengers. I thought it was demented. Then something I watched spiked my interest. A man in a spangly outfit named Captain America was a sort of super soldier from WWII. I learned that he had taken some sort of serum that made him into, well, a super human. Now, back to the journal of information I stole from my parents. I recently read that they were trying to recreate the serum used on the Captain. This shocked me. They were giving me cruel, harsh treatment my whole life to turn me into a super human so they could gain fame and fortune? Well, scratch that, it doesn't shock me. Not one bit.

I have sat up by now and am looking at the journal once more. I read it for information and recreation, seeing as I have nothing else to do. There are many equations and notes, theorems and facts littered throughout the journal. Like I said, I am not clueless. To try an ignore the pain the adults bring about on me I listen in on their conversations and try, when not momentarily paralyzed by the test serums that are given to me, to look around at notes and words, numbers and letters to gain knowledge. In the journal I read information on the serum that changed Captain America, it was very interesting but it depressed me because of the fact that those adults I am forced to call my parents use me to test their sample serums on. I try keeping the emotions inside but sometimes, I do snap.

When I snap, it is not good for me. No, not one bit. I am always punished when I snap. It isn't so much a physical punishment, but they both say very hurtful things to me. They tell me I am a worthless brat who doesn't deserve anything. They tell me I am just a nuisance. It burns, and my hate for them grows. Sometimes they will inject me with something that slowly burns my body from the inside. It is pure torture. They usually do that when I take things a bit too far, which I rarely ever do. Thank goodness.

After reflecting about this miserable excuse for a life, I ease into a kneeling position and attempt to stand in order to make my way to the cot. My joints and muscles ache and scream in protest when I stand and slowly walk around the storage closet of a room. After making about ten laps around the room, I sit and rest on the cot for a bit.

Last night, my parents called me downstairs to the basement in an impatient manner telling me to "Hurry up you worthless thing! We don't have all day to wait on a waste of space like you!" I didn't want to go to the torture chamber again so I stayed in bed, pretending to be asleep, hoping that a miracle would happen and they would let me "sleep". But no, fate had other plans. My father stomped up the stairs and drug me out of bed, pulling me behind him and walking at a fast pace down to the lab.

I had muttered, "Calm down, good lord!"

My father turned around to me angrily, got in my face and shouted, "SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU WORTHLESS GIRL!" Tears had formed in my eyes but I had quickly blinked them away. "This time in the lab will be extra painful because of that stunt you pulled you brat," My father said low and dangerously. I had been positively terrified, but hid it well.

I remembered he had strapped me to a table and took a needle filled with blue liquid and jammed it hard into my arm. My mother glared at me and stabbed my other arm with an identical needle. My head had started going fuzzy with pain and my limbs burned for what seemed like hours. I remembered holding on for a little after that and then everything went black.

Snapping out of my trance, I rub my eyes and groan. "Why does this always happen?" I whisper to myself. I stand up a bit easier this time, but still with some difficulty, and walk around the room again. After about five minutes I hear my father screaming at me from the basement to get down there within one minute or he'd come get me himself. I consider staying in my room, but seeing the damage already done, I didn't want to risk any more injuries than the ones I know were sure to come either way. Saying a silent prayer that this horror will end soon, I lift my head up high and walk to the torture room. I need a light. I am looking for my light.

**A/N**

**A big thank you to anyone who takes time to read this! This happens to be my first fanfiction ever so I hope you guys like it! I would appreciate if you took time to review and tell me if you like it :) Tell me if I should continue, give me suggestions, tips, anything! Anything and everything is appreciated, even criticism! Please be polite though! Thanks to anyone who reviews, favorites, or follows my story! Next chapter should be up later today or sometime tomorrow!**


	2. Pain and Changes

A/N

A big huge thank you to those who reviewed and favorite the first chapter! It means a lot!

**Forbidden Moons-Yes I know! Poor girl indeed! Loki won't be in this chapter :( but will more than likely be in the next chapter some towards the end! As for her powers, she finds two in this chapter! Thanks for reviewing! Cyber Hugs!**

**kage kitsune 14- I hope this chapter is up to par! I made it a bit longer so I hope you like it! Thanks for reviewing hun! Cyber Hugs!**

**HUGE NOTE!**

**I did not put a disclaimer on the last chapter! *Gasps and Screams* So to cover for it...**

**I DO NOT OWN LOKI :( OR THE AVENGERS :( BUT I DO OWN ADALINA!**

***Loki- You are right mortal! No one owns me!**

***Me- But I thought you loved me! *cries***

***Loki- No don't cry my love! I'm supposed to love Adalina for the sake of the story remember!**

***Me- Oh, right! Sorry dear! ANYWAYS! Here's the story! :) Hope you like!**

Adalina's POV

I quietly pad down the dark hallway that leads from my room to the stairs. I don't have shoes or socks on so the cold floor soothes my already aching feet. Father and mother have told me countless times before to never wear shoes in any other room but my own. Sometimes I am frightened of the dark hallway. At times I feel that father or mother is waiting in the shadows, ready to drag me down to the lab. I hate to admit it, but this hallway scares me. It scares me and I must go down it at least three times a week, whether I walk down it or am dragged down it. I hate this hallway. I despise it.

While walking, I think about how I found the journal.

**Flashback**-

'"ADALINA ROSE PALMER! GET YOUR LAZY SELF UP AND GET DOWN TO THE LAB IN FIVE MINUTES! UNDERSTAND ME GIRL?!" Mother yelled in my sleeping- well, formerly sleeping- face. "I have no time to put up with this," she spits as she quickly walks out of the room.

I internally groaned and muttered to myself, "Who put nails in her cereal? Gees!" Honestly, as broken as I am, I get so fed up with them! I come up with so many smart comments in my head, but I never use them in fear that I will get beaten within an inch of my life...quite literally.

I walk down the hallway with a shudder and let out a shaky breath. I always feel like I am walking to death row when I go to the lab. The thing is though, I very well could be. I never know, not ever. Sometimes I wish I would just die down there so I wouldn't have to endure any more of the torture, the pain, the loneliness... It would be much better for me.

"GET DOWN HERE GIRL! NOW! DO NOT STRETCH MY PATIENCE!" Father yells. He always yells. Sometimes I wonder if he has a condition. Then again, with the way my parents treat me, they both could very well be mentally unstable. I don't doubt it.

I start running- quietly, so as to not anger the devil's spawn more- around the corner and swing the door to the stairs open. Taking a moment to groan in pain and try and ease the rising tension and pressure in my ribs, I rub my sides in circles to try and disguise the pain. I take a much needed breath and continue, quietly and slowly, down the stairs. Eighteen years I have been alive, and sixteen have been full of torture. I don't know how much longer I can take. I need to snap. I want to snap. I need to leave.

Peeking through the door to the lab, I am surprised to not see Thing 1 and Thing 2 standing in the room. I walk in a bit further and look around fully. They are nowhere in sight. Being the girl of 18 who has never seen the outside world, except through windows, I am classified as a curious being in my opinion. So being that inquisitive girl-well woman, in all technicality- I risk my privileges to try and find anything that explains my reason for "living". What privileges one may ask? Oh, the privileges of staying sane and being able to move, those privileges.

I amble about the room trying to find something of use. I see items ranging to pens to white boards with words and numbers that resemble a puzzle, to paper and vials and beakers. That's when I notice it, a small, green, notebook about the size of a couple slices of bread. I hurry to pick it up, seeing that is was on a metal table halfway across the huge room. I reach the table and examine the journal. From front to back it is covered in letters and words and numbers in black ink. The first five or so pages are packed with math, advanced math at that. I put the thought of studying it later at the back of my mind when I heard footsteps, large, heavy footsteps. Father. With my mind and reflexes in overdrive, I stuff the notebook into my back pocket and yank my hand back out quicker than I thought possible. Thank goodness for the baggy sweatpants I wore!

Just as father walks in the room, I bolt to the examination table. He keeps the same glare on his face and just walks over, as though he has no suspicions whatsoever. Clearly, he doesn't because I would have been interrogated to the moon and back if he was. Now I'm confused; how on earth did he not notice me? He was turning into the room when I ran to the table. Then again, I have had faster reflexes as of late, but I doubt it means anything.

Thing 1 spits at me to lay down on the table just as Thing 2, mother, storms in. "Don't move a muscle you pathetic thing," mother stated in a deadly low voice.

'Here we go again,' I thought to myself. As they get the agonizing needles ready, I think about the journal and all the answers it could hold...and my skin is pierced, and it burns.'

**End Flashback**

I near the end of the hallway and pick up my pace a bit more; I want to get out of this hallway, now. I reach the door to the stairs and hesitantly place my hand on the doorknob. 'Should I really?' I think 'Oh let's just get it over with.'

Walking down the stairs at a very fast pace, but not yet running, I hope that it hasn't been five minutes. Otherwise, I'd be screwed, so very screwed. When I get to the door at the bottom and open it, father looks excited, but sadistic...as always. Mother looks the same. They both have this glint in their eyes, as if they have just- Oh great! They have just made another serum to try out on me! Perfect! Mother grabs me and sticks her claw-like nails into my wrist as she drags me across the room as I hiss in pain. Thing 1 shoots me a glare when I do, so I close my mouth quickly.

She shoves me back into to metal table hard, making me groan in pain. Mother gives me an evil like grin and states clearly, "This serum will be perfect, pet. Once we know it works we will have no more use of you." This makes my eyes go wide in both fear and relief: fear because of what will happen and how they will go about doing it and relief because I will finally exit the miserable life.

I lean back on the table and glance at the ceiling. There is something different about it this time though; a mirror is hanging on the ceiling! I haven't seen my reflection in, well, ever! I know I have brown hair and lightly tanned skin because I can see it myself. I look in the mirror, and for the first time, I see my eyes. My hair is a deep dark brown, darker than I had originally thought. My skin is a bit less tanned than I had thought as well. I seem fairly tall, but not too tall. My face is shaped nicely, but it is a bit hollow. The thing that intrigued me though, was my eyes. I have never seen my eyes and was expecting something dull, but no. My eyes are a shade of blue, like the pictures of the ocean I have seen on the news, but...bluer. I am happy with my eyes and I let a small smile creep on my face. This is the first time I have smiled in I don't know how long. Then I look at my body and that hint of a smile slides directly off of my face. I am horrified. Years of hunger and malnourishment from those monsters have taken their toll. The serums have done who knows what to my body, but it has probably pitched in a bit. I am skin and bones.

I am angry. I am angry for what my 'parents'- I spit the word in my head-, have done to me, angry for how my body looks, and especially angry for how little I have stood up for myself. Sure I have in my mind, but in reality? Not one bit.

I finally snap. I stand up as quick as my body will let me, give them the deadliest glare I can muster, and scream at them, something I have never dared do, "WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT HAVEN'T YOU DONE TO ME ALREADY? WHAT MORE COULD YOU POSSIBLY DO TO ME?! YOU SNAP YOU FINGERS IN FRONT OF MY FACE AND WANT TO BEND ME TO YOUR EVERY WILL LIKE YOU HAVE DONE FOR MY ENTIRE LIFE? HUH? WELL THING ONE AND TWO LET ME TELL YOU THIS," I get my breathing and shaking under control while my 'parents' stare at me in pure shock and disbelief, "I am so done. I am done with you controlling me. I am done with being your own personal toy you use for fun. I am done with both of you! I AM DONE!"

Mother looks me in the eye, slightly frightened, mouth slightly agape, like she doesn't know who I am. So does father. I am not at all surprised by my outburst. I had it coming, and the real me has finally surfaced, the one that comes up with the rude and sarcastic comments that never escape my lips, the one who will always stand up for herself, the one I have tried to keep buried, the real me. I continue to glare at them, very well might I add.

Seconds pass.

TICK. My parents slowly close their mouths.

TICK. TICK. Mother looks at father, as if asking a question with her eyes.

TICK. TICK. TICK. Father looks at me, ever so slowly. He gives me one of his famous glares and goes very red in the face with anger.

TICK. TICK. TICK. TICK. Tension. Silence.

TICK. Time bomb.

TICK. Explosion.

"YOU PATHETIC GIRL HOW DARE YOU USE THAT TONE WITH US?" He shouts.

How dare he think he can control me? He has for so long and I am done! DONE! "ME? YOU IDIOT! YOU DESERVE NOTHING SHORT OF A DERANGED ANIMAL'S TREATMENT! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO OR WHAT TO SAY!" I reply with a vengeance.

"YOU SHUT UP! YOU ARE NOTHING! YOU ARE A LABROTORY EXPERIMENT! YOU ARE-," that man gets cut off. I am absolutely fuming.

'SLAP', the sound my hand makes echoes across the room.

"I am not nothing. I know I am something, or will become something. You both however, are sick, twisted, mentally ill, animals. You are both sick and twisted animals." I state lowly, but clearly, and in a very dangerous tone. "I will not put up with you and your sick games, you-"

I feel a sudden surge of pain. It feels like bullets are raining inside my body, jerking me with a seizure. I collapse to the floor, a scream tearing its way from my throat and out of my mouth. I am so confused; I don't know what is happening. It feels as if I am burning with fire from the inside out and freezing from the outside in. I am paralyzed. I see my parents watching in awe, as if they are glad this is happening to me, and snap out of their trance to run out of the room like the devil himself is chasing them. I am submerged in pain again when my arms and legs jerk as though knives are cutting through them. I have been screaming non-stop but I will not shout for help or mercy, I know I am stronger than to stoop to cowardice again. This agonizing fire is more consuming and far worse than any other serum that has been forced into my system. This is purely horrendous.

It feels like hours, but the pain slowly, ever so slowly, fades. It fades into a slight sting, but it is finally tolerable. I stand up, thinking it will hurt badly, but it seems like it was washed away after those agonizing moments, the only trace of it being there is the stinging in my limbs.

I remember the journal, of all things. I remember reading something about how Captain America went through something similar to what had just happened to me. I wonder if I have any powers now. "Ha!" I laugh at myself for thinking of such an outrageous thought. I see that the metal table where I practically started the day apart from that small time in my room is on the very other side lab. I want to test myself to see if my reflexes and running abilities are still intact. I breathe in and out, hope for the best and shoot off.

I am running at an INHUMAN speed and before I can form another thought I am screeching to a loud halt, the screaming squeak the floor made echoing throughout the room. I am in utter awe! I just ran a lab the size of a football field, the kind I see on the news, in 5 seconds flat and- OH MY LINCOLN ON A POGO STICK!

I look at my feet and they are on fire, literally. I whip around to find deformed footprints on fire on the floor of the lab. I just ran, producing fire. No way! I turn around to examine the whole room and to my surprise, see the fire growing and spreading. Great.

I am panicking right now. The fire is spreading and I have nothing to stop it with. Perfect. I mean, unless by some miracle I can control water as well... Well, I guess it is worth a shot. I did just light my feet up; maybe I can control water with my hands? I know it sound completely demented, but it is the only option I have since mother and father always have the sinks disabled. Idiots. "Ok Adalina, focus. See if you can by some heavenly miracle you CAN control water," I mutter to myself.

I need water. Water. Right. I close my eyes and lift my right hand up and out. I feel a hard tug in the center of my palm and squint open my eyes the tiniest amount; and I

Cannot,

Believe.

My.

Eyes.

There is water spraying from my hands and onto the floor. Once again, I am in awe. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I point my hand in the direction of the ever growing fire. The fire is now swaying at roughly ten feet tall and it extremely hot. The plumes of smoke waft through the air, wanting to suffocate anything in its path. I know I caused the fire, but the heat still gets to me it seems. I begin to choke and cough. I need to get out.

I want this horrid place burned to the ground, but I want out alive. I will make my life worth something. Anything. I want this torture room burned. I want it burned to the ground. All of my memories of this place, every sadistic smile, every needle, every agonizing moment of pain; I want it gone. Everything. I will make it happen. Just this morning I thought today would be like any other day, but I was wrong. I did not assume or even remotely think about leaving. After eighteen awful years I am leaving.

I use the water to clear a path for me to jump out of the room and onto the stairs. I look at that lab one final time before sprinting up the stairs two at a time in order to get out as quickly as possible. I reach the top of the stairs and glance at the wall beside me, where I know there is a mirror. I am looking at myself on my last day in this horrid place. I am shocked. My eyes were an aqua blue just hours ago, and now they are an aqua blue with a beautiful, molten gold streak in each one. I think most of the world I am about to see would judge me as a mutant for my new eyes, but I know they are a part of a serum that saved my life. My new eyes represent hope. My eyes represent strength.

I am for once, thankful to that evil duo for making this serum. They gave me the power to escape. I will never forgive them though, for this was only an accident in their eyes. I was supposed to die after this experiment. I was supposed to earn them fame and fortune. This is my revenge in my eyes I think as I step into that dreadful hallway. I run at my inhuman speed down the hall, lighting what was behind me on fire. I am lighting my past on fire, destroying it, though I know it will always haunt me.

I look back at the flames licking the basement door and the floor turning black in the hallway one last time before turning and running out of the house, lighting the area around me on fire in my wake. I reach the door; pat my pocket to make sure the journal, yes the journal, a symbol of my time spent here, is still there. It is. I place my hand on the doorknob and turn it. I open the door to see the most beautiful sight I have ever laid my eyes on. I am looking at the night sky. It is gorgeous and not bad for a first glimpse of the world.

I step out onto the porch, shutting the door behind me and start to walk through the grass. I still don't wear my shoes. I come to what I know is a sidewalk, and slowly but surely amble my way to the end of the road, only looking back at the house being submerged in flames over my shoulder once.

I turn back around to the front and nearly scream. Right in front of me is a man. He is a man I have never seen before. He looks to be of African American decent and wears all black. This man looks like a no-nonsense type of person and looks like he can get nearly any job done. This man wears a black eye patch that covers his left eye and I wonder what happened.

"Sir? Can I help you?" I ask him politely, hoping to get a response from him.

"Adalina Rose Palmer," he states clearly with a look in his eye that said 'do not lie to me'.

I am completely shocked and scared. How did this stranger know who I am? Secondly, if he knows who I am, does he know what exactly I went through for as long as I can remember? If he did why didn't her help? Trying to act as calm as possible, I answer with a "Yes, that's me," that sounds only slightly shaky.

"Miss Palmer, I am Director Nick Fury from S.H.I.E.L.D. and I would like to ask you a few questions."

Brilliant.

**Remember! Reviews are greatly appreciated! So are favorites and follows! Let me know if you like it by typing me a little note! Thanks! xx**


	3. AN- sorry!

**A/N**

**Hello my readers! Sorry I didn't update yesterday like I planned, but I have had some school work to catch up on Chapter three will be up tonight or tomorrow! Thanks for reading!**


	4. VERY IMPORTANT AN

Do. Not. Kill. Me. Hear me out…

Just wanted to let you know this story will be discontinued- BUT! I am rewriting it under the name For the Life of Me.

I honestly did not like Adalina's personality and wanted to change it. While I was rewriting the first chapter of FTLOM her personality inspired me to add something else to the plot. Also, I was not satisfied with how poorly LFL was written, so I am rewriting it to hit par or, hopefully, higher!

On top of that, I haven't updated LFL since… what, March-ish? Yeah, that's a lot of time to lose interest in a story, so I am revamping LFL to FTLOM.

I hope you read the FTLOM and don't hate me for not updating LFL.

Sorry guys! Take a look at For the Life of Me. If you like it, fave/follow the story and REVIEW It will make me super uber happy! Spread the word! Love to all!


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